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rural - Francesca
Babbler # 14858

posted 13 January 2008 05:52 AM      Profile for rural - Francesca   Author's Homepage     Send New Private Message      Edit/Delete Post  Reply With Quote 
Dandelion Whine

The disturbance was faint at first. Its intensity increased slightly and then faded into the surroundings. The discord rumbled again. It was impossible to discern immediately if there was an increase in volume and intensity. Time later, a faint vibration began to accompany this intermittent signal.

It now grew louder with each encounter. The last passage was accompanied by a fierce wind that blew debris all over her. She then understood what the phenomenon was and she trembled.

These phenomena had taken most of her family. Only she remained and the bud of her child was only just now protruding, a mere hint of its existence. She knew fear. It was a fear that had grown from ancestral roots.

The menace returned with vengeance whenever her family was able to expand and grow. Year after year, generation after generation was cut down without provocation. It had been that way as long as her family had lived in the area.

She knew her ancestors had been welcomed to this land. They had been brought by the Others to enhance this new developing world. Now that they were successful and her family had permeated into the complex society of this world they were hunted unmercifully.

Many of her friends had been gassed and the chemical warfare continued with astonishing disregard for the impact upon the assaulting Others own well being. She also had learned that many of her family had escaped to areas that were left untouched by the ethnic cleansing that endangered her now.

Suddenly it all cleared her mind for her. She knew by the change that had taken place within her, that she was old enough now that they would run her down without mercy, without a second thought to her life, her dreams, her potential for contribution. She was undesirable for simply what she was and that would justify her death sentence.

She knew with the next occurrence she would cease to exist. She also knew that her child would live. Her child would then have a child that would live, it didn't matter how long they would live, she knew it would not be long, only that they would live.

This was the key. No matter who mowed her down, her line would continue, the budding child was proof of that. They may try to weed out the undesirables but the nature of her species refused to acknowledge defeat.

She felt the vibration again. The phenomena came. It had no name and only a single purpose. She was at peace with herself. She had established her link, the meaning of her existence had been accomplished and now her time had come. She knew with her death the seeds of the revolution would spread father, creating more like her to take up the cause.

With a brief nod of her head she acknowledged its power and died. She died proud, abruptly and as her head fell her child was awakening, awakening to its purpose in the world, there to continue on.

For they were Dandelions and one day the mowers would admit defeat and quietly cease their destruction. But for now the Dandelions would continue to grow in the endless pursuit of life.


From: the backyard | Registered: Dec 2007  |  IP: Logged
Babbler # 14536

posted 13 January 2008 03:29 PM      Profile for bliter   Author's Homepage        Edit/Delete Post  Reply With Quote 
Dandelion Whine?

You cain't evun spell.

Dandelion Wine - a great book by Ray Bradbury and a great drink.

Such a shame that the dandelion is so maligned. Its young leaves may be stir-fried or tossed in a salad. The flower heads may be fermented into a wine the equal of a fine champagne. And during WW11 the roots were roasted and ground and served as a coffee substitute.

Then there are those that would rather cover them with chemicals. Pity the poor kids, birds and other animals.

From: delta | Registered: Sep 2007  |  IP: Logged
21st Century Anarchist
Babbler # 14701

posted 15 January 2008 05:47 AM      Profile for 21st Century Anarchist     Send New Private Message      Edit/Delete Post  Reply With Quote 
Whine as in the sound of the approaching lawn-mower. Nice poem or short or whatever you call that. I enjoyed it .

[ 15 January 2008: Message edited by: 21st Century Anarchist ]

From: Toronto | Registered: Nov 2007  |  IP: Logged
rural - Francesca
Babbler # 14858

posted 15 January 2008 05:57 AM      Profile for rural - Francesca   Author's Homepage     Send New Private Message      Edit/Delete Post  Reply With Quote 
Whine as in "why are they killing me?"

Actually the piece is about the Bosnian War

From: the backyard | Registered: Dec 2007  |  IP: Logged

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